


Dorm 221B

by ZoeyTear



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, M/M, johnlock au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 06:28:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 17,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2802818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZoeyTear/pseuds/ZoeyTear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tetchy and awkward Sherlock Holmes befriends the lovely and kind John Watson, in their shared dorm; 221B. Sherlock quickly falls for the ex-soldier, but is soon stopped by John's love interest- Sarah Cloud. Is she as harmless as she appears to be? Should Sherlock turn and run from the first person he's ever loved? Read to find out!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own any of the characters in this story, bar original creations. I recognise that BBC own the Sherlock characters I am writing about.
> 
> This story was completed in late summer 2014.

''Sherlock! Just...Hold still!''

Sherlock batted away his mother's hand and fixed his collar how he wanted it. ''Mother, dear Lord, I'm just going to college. You need to calm down.''

''Sherlock,'' she said in a stern voice, pulling back. ''You might be all grown up now, going to study at University,'' She paused, tearing up. ''But, you'll always be my little boy.''

Sherlock rolled his eyes. ''Don't be so dramatic. I'll only be gone about seven months.''

She gave a smile. She was used to Sherlock's behaviour. ''Well, alright, you mad boy. Get your bags and your father will drive you to the station.''

Sherlock nodded and reached over onto his bed, taking up his coat and scarf. ''And it probably wont even be seven months. I'll get thrown out again or something.''

''Sherlock!'' She scolded, walking to the door. ''I'll have none of that, now! You hear me?''

''Yes, mother.'' 

He picked up his two suitcases and walked to her. ''So, goodbye, then.''

She kissed Sherlock on the cheek and gave a sad smile. ''Goodbye, dear. Don't forget to say goodbye to Myc.''

Sherlock rolled his eyes again and strode past her. He walked down the hall, still carrying his bags and knocked on his older brother's door. ''Mycroft. Leaving. Goodbye.''

There was the sound of various bolts on a door being unlocked and the door creaked open. A head popped out. ''Right you are. Do try not to get beaten up.''

Sherlock smirked and made way for the stairs. ''Oh, you know me, Mycroft.''

''Indeed I do...'' murmured Mycroft, shutting his door again.

Mrs.Holmes stood on the landing a moment, looking between her two boys. ''Who raised them?'' she muttered, following Sherlock.

                                                                              *

''So, you'll be okay and stuff?'' 

''And stuff, yeah. Thanks for being so considerate, Harry.''

''Is that sarcasm?''

John shook his head and hung up on his sister. He flung his haversack onto his shoulder and hopped down the stairs to his aunt and uncle. ''Right, so I'm off.''

''Oh!'' said his aunt, wiping her hands on her apron and walking away from the kitchen and into the hall. She brought John into a quick hug. ''Oh, your parents will be so proud!''

John gave an awkward nod and pulled back. ''Yes, Well...thank you for having me here the past few months. It's been...rough.''

She nodded. ''It's very good to see you back on your feet, John.''

''Well, it's good to be back on them.'' John gave a nod of goodbye and opened the door. ''Thanks again.''

''It was no problem, John. Text us if you need to.''

John nodded again and headed out the door for his train.

                                                                         *

Sherlock, after persuading his father to actually let him  _board_  the train, sat back and let himself enjoy the short enough train ride to his University. At eighteen years of age, Sherlock Holmes was  _late_  going to college. He had finished school two years prior. Honorary student. Straight A's. Trouble maker. He didn't mean to start any fights. Sometimes his skills got the better of him and he said one detail too many. University would be different, right? People are supposed to be more mature in College. 

At around five o'clock in the evening, the train pulled up onto its platform. It was only a five minute walk to the college and to Sherlock's dorm. He dragged his bags along behind him until he reached the sign in desk of his new college. He gave his name and details to the tired looking clerk, then was given a card with his dorm written on it. 

Sherlock looked at it as he walked in the direction of 'Block B'.

''221B.'' he muttered. 

He made his way up, stopping to ask for directions once. Once he got to his room, he pulled out his key card and swiped it. The door opened silently and he gave it a push. There were already lights on inside and boxes scattered about. 

_Dear God, I don't have to share do I?_

He pushed the door open and stepped inside. ''Hello?''

A short blonde boy walked out from the bathroom holding a face cloth and a toothbrush. ''Ah, you must be my room mate. Hiya.''

Sherlock gave a curt nod and picked up his bags from the floor. ''Which bed have you taken?''

His room mate pointed to the bed on the left side of the room. ''I'm John Watson, by the way.''

''Very well.'' Sherlock responded, closing the door behind and walking to his bed.

John looked oddly at his new room mate. ''And you? What's your name?''

Sherlock placed his bags on his bed and sat down. ''Sherlock Holmes.'' he answered plainly, just sitting there.

''...Right.'' John said awkwardly. ''Well, it's...nice to meet you.''

Sherlock nodded vaguely, obviously thinking of something else.

''Are you going to the party tonight?''

Sherlock blinked and looked up at John. ''Party?''

''Yeah, there's a party. Everyone's going. Get to know people, stuff like that.''

Sherlock looked away. ''That sounds tedious.''

John pursed his lips and looked at Sherlock. ''That's...one way of looking at it, I suppose.''

Sherlock tried a shrug. ''I don't know. I doubt I'll go.''

John nodded again and walked back into the bathroom. ''I'm sure it'll be a laugh once you get into the swing of it.''

Sherlock swung his feet up on his bed. ''I doubt that.''

 John came back out, now empty handed. ''You don't like parties?''

Sherlock nodded vaguely. ''Not particularly.''

John nodded, standing in the centre of his room. ''Well, either do I, usually. Maybe we could go together so we can ignore people?''

Sherlock's mouth twitched up into a smirk. ''I can do that, I suppose.'' 


	2. Chapter Two

A while later, Sherlock and his new room mate John, set off across campus to the auditorium where the party was being held. They had talked some more at their room.

John learned that Sherlock was eighteen. He was doing the same course as him in microbiology, but he didn't seem overly enthusiastic about it. He was...weird. Like, really weird. John wasn't sure if sharing a room with him would be easy or not. It would be interesting, no doubt.

Sherlock allowed John to state the obvious to him. Twenty years of age. He had joined the army at eighteen, but had been forced to leave upon injury.He was an average guy, Sherlock saw. Maybe a bit nicer than other people, though. So far he hadn't told him to shut up.

Sherlock wasn't really looking forward to this party. He was only going because he was bored and John was somewhat interesting. He could tell John felt awkward around him, though. As did a lot of people. They didn't understand his social ineptitude. Sherlock didn't really care.

''So...ever been to a college party before?'' John asked, breaking the silence as they walked.

''No, and I'm nearly certain this will be my last.''

John's eyebrows went up. ''You haven't even gotten there and you're already putting your foot down?''

Sherlock tried a shrug. ''It's not my thing.''

''Then why're you coming? I'm not forcing you, or whatever.'' John said with a little laugh.

''I was bored.'' Sherlock answered, trying to sound casual.

He'd never really done this. Talked to someone so casually. Someone his own age, who wasn't his brother. Well, of course he had  _talked_  to people. It's very hard to go about and not end up conversing with someone...but, it felt sort of different.

''So bored to go out of your comfort zone?'' John asked.

Sherlock rolled his eyes and looked down to John. ''What, do you not  _believe_  me or something?''

''No! No!'' John said, holding his hands up and smiling. ''Who am I to say any of this?'' he laughed.

Sherlock just smiled in response and chuckled.

John dropped his gaze to the path. He watched his own shoes, light brown leather, move up and down with each step. He liked Sherlock, despite his...difference. _Living with him might actually be a bit of a laugh_ , John thought.

After a minute or so, they approached the hall. Loud music came from inside and there was an disorganized crowd of excited first years trying to get in. Sherlock felt no excitement as he walked up with John to the back of the chaotic line. It was dark in the hall with flashing pink and green lights. No alcohol was being sold, but with a quick scan of the people before him, Sherlock saw that-

''Half of these people are already hammered.''

John snorted and looked up at him. ''No shit, Sherlock.''

Sherlock gave a short, loud laugh. ''Don't you think it's a bit pathetic, though? Just because you're in college now, all these people think their lives are going to become this wondrous, partying, sex-filled trip. It's ridiculous.''

John nodded slightly in agreement and laughed. ''For some people it will be, though.''

''And they will fail, most likely.''

John laughed again, the line moving along a bit and a group of loud girls in tight dresses came up behind them. ''Oh, but come on. Didn't we all hope, at least, when we were sixteen that college  _would_  be this sex-filled, mad party, freakin' acid trip?''

Sherlock looked down at John. '' _I_  didn't''

''Yeah, well, you seem to be an exception for a lot of things.''

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and was about to answer, when he was tapped on the shoulder. He turned to see a short brunette looking up to him. She looked like she was going to burst from holding in her stomach.

''Yes?''

She smiled up at him and pointed over her shoulder to a group of other girls. ''My friend, Tally, the blonde one, thinks you're fit.''

Sherlock pursed his lips and glanced over at Tally. ''Fit?''

She laughed unnecessarily and nodded. ''Y'wanna shift?''

Sherlock cocked his head to the side, confused for a moment, then he straightened up, his mouth the shape of an 'o'.

''Well? Alley 'round the back.'' She said, punching his arm lightly. 

''No.'' Sherlock said, completely unfazed. He heard John laugh beside him.

Her smile fell. ''Uh...why?''

''Well, for starters, I'm gay. Two, I don't  _want_  to have sex.''

Again, John snorted a laugh and Sherlock glanced down at him, not understanding the awkwardness of the situation.

She gave him a disgusted look and called him 'dick' before turning back to her friends. 

Sherlock turned back around. ''That was sort of weird.''

John laughed a little again, then shuffled a bit on his feet. ''Did you say that to make her go? Are you gay?''

''Yes.'' Sherlock answered, finding no interest in talking about it. ''But, even at that, I find men...most people; repulsive.''

''Really?'' John said, honestly just curious. ''Why?''

''Yes.'' Sherlock sighed. It wasn't a big deal. If only everyone else thought so too. ''And because...it's just not my thing. That whole ''sentimental'' thing.''

John looked up at Sherlock, then eventually nodded, as if he was giving himself time to accept this about Sherlock.

The line moved along some more and Sherlock and John walked in, their ears were greeted by thumping music.

''Oh, God.'' Sherlock said. ''Loud.''

''Well, yeah.'' John said, making towards the bar.

Sherlock hesitated, then followed John. ''What are we even supposed to do here?''

John ordered himself a sparkling water and leaned against the bar. ''Well, most people,  _honestly_  are looking to shag.''

Sherlock rolled his eyes. He hated this. ''Maybe I'll just leave.''

John shrugged. ''If you really want to, but I'd stay a bit longer, loosen up, get a drink off someone. You might like it.''

Sherlock shuffled a bit on his feet. ''I think I'll go.''

''If you want to, yeah.'' John said, turning around to pick up his glass. ''But, you really should try it out. Just five minutes.''

Sherlock sighed and sat on a stool beside John. ''What are you gonna do?''

John downed his water and put the glass down. ''I'm going to get myself some real drink, and then probably...''

''Chat up a girl?'' Sherlock muttered under his breath, his eyes scanning the many dancing people. 

''Or boy.'' John grinned, fixing his shirt collar. 

Sherlock's head turned back to look at John. He was surprised he had missed this detail.

John laughed at the look on Sherlock's face. ''What's wrong with a bit of variety every now and then?''

''Didn't say there was.'' Sherlock murmured, looking away again. 

''Though,'' John said, stepping away from the bar. ''I tend to go for girls.''

Sherlock just nodded, having no response.

''I'm getting a beer. Want one?''

Sherlock looked about him. Loud music and people. Obnoxious drunks and over confident douches. He hated it.

''Yeah, get me one. It'll be a long night.''

John smiled and walked off. It must be tough for Sherlock, he thought. He just didn't have a natural want to talk to people. He didn't seem to care much, but it must get lonely sometimes, right?

John walked round back and got himself and Sherlock their drinks. On the way back, a girl walked up to him. 

''Two drinks?''

''Uh...yes.'' John said, motioning to Sherlock at the bar.

''Oh, is he your date?'' She asked. She was short with red, spiky hair.

''No.'' John said, straightening up and smiling. ''No date.''

''Oh,'' She smiled, stepping closer to John. ''So, two drinks?''

John laughed, but then shook his head. ''One's for him, sorry.''

''Oh, go on.'' She leaned forward and pecked John on the lips. ''For me?''

John laughed. ''I don't even know you. You're cute, but he's-''

''Your  _boyfriend?''_ She teased, kissing his cheek. 

''No. Not my boyfriend. My room mate.''

''Oooh, share a bed?''

John rolled his eyes and pushed passed her. ''Not his date.''

She frowned, then bounced over to the next guy she saw. 

John walked over to Sherlock and handed him his can. ''Hey.''

''She liked you.'' Sherlock stated, taking a sip of his drink.

John shrugged. ''She was over the top. She was just trying to get a drink off me.''

''Yeah, and she also liked you.''

''No,'' John laughed. ''She liked  _us_.''

''Us?''

''She thought we were dating.''

Sherlock only nodded and took a sip of his beer again. ''I'm going to have to get really drunk. Let's enjoy this night.''


	3. Chapter Three

The night went on, blinking lights, loud music and shouting to hear one another. Despite everything he had said, every thing he had complained about and all the things he claimed he hated about the night, Sherlock Holmes was enjoying himself. Immensely.

He liked John a lot. Very, very much so. He found it easy to be himself around John. He was nice and non-judgmental. A perfect fit for Sherlock.

So now, a group of twelve outcasts (Sherlock and John included) were sitting at the back of the hall, playing a game of spin the bottle. Quite childish, you might say, but none of them were completely sober, and so what? They were having fun.

It was John's turn to spin the bottle and everyone settled their laughter to see who it would land on. There was a collective gasp as it stopped between Sherlock and the girl with red hair from earlier.

''It's Sherlock!"

''No, it's Sarah!"

John gave a sheepish smile and shrugged. '' Who do I kiss?"

Sherlock opened his mouth to say   _not_ to kiss him, when Sarah butted in.

''Well, you've already kissed me, so you have to kiss Sherlock, now!"

John's eyes flickered across Sherlock's face, then down to the floor. They were sat in a circle and Sherlock was seated right beside John.

''I only kiss people if I have their consent.''

Sherlock felt himself blush, and he hoped it didn't show because of the darkened hall. He tried a shrug. ''I don't mind much.''

John looked up at Sherlock. ''Okay,then...''

Sherlock shuffled a little closer to John. John gave a shaky laugh and closed the space between their mouths. Sherlock felt himself blush once again, but he kissed his new roommate back, feeling a hand cup his cheek.

John heard people let out an 'awww'  around him, but he didn't break the kiss just yet. Sherlock was...soft and gentle and John would guess, maybe a little inexperienced, but that  _definitely_  did not mean it wasn't enjoyable.

''Get a room!" Someone shouted, causing John and Sherlock to bring themselves out of their moment.

Sherlock quickly pulled away, sliding from John, his face burning up. John cleared his throat and looked to Sherlock. ''Uh...your go.''

''Um...'' Sherlock stood. ''I think I...Bathroom.'' he mumbled, walking off.

''Ha!'' Sarah laughed, reaching across and playfully tapping John. ''You're not  _that_  bad, are you?''

John tried a laugh, feeling unsure of myself. He turned back to the company fully, yet watched Sherlock walk off out of the corner of his eye, trying to forget the butterflies he felt.

 

Sherlock splashed his face with water and looked up into the mirror. He'd locked the bathroom door so he could get a moment of peace. 

''No,'' Sherlock muttered, looking himself in the eye. ''You know what happened last time.''

There was a banging on the door and Sherlock gave a small jump. He dried his face off and tried to stand straight. The drink made him feel unsteady and incredibly slow. 

''Come on! Open up!'' Came a woman's voice. 

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and opened the door. ''This is the men's-''

Sherlock stopped as he found himself staring down at Sarah and John, holding hands. Giddy. Excited. 

''Oh. Right. I'll get out of your way.''

Sherlock pushed passed them both. He just wanted to go home.Not to his dorm. Home. With all those people he despised and loved equally. He heard John call after him, but he just kept walking, out of the bathroom, out of the hall and into the cold morning, the sky still dark. He stumbled a bit on his feet, then straightened up, pulling out his phone.

Mycroft answered after four rings. ''Sherlock, it's two in the morning. Have you gotten yourself beaten up already?''

''Human error, Mycroft.'' Sherlock said, walking towards his dorm.

''Oh dear,'' Mycroft murmured, sounding disgusted. ''Do tell.''

 

Luckily, neither Sherlock nor John's classes started until the next day, so when Sherlock woke with a headache and a dry mouth, it was already half one.

He cracked his eyes open, and was instantly greeted with a horrible pulsing in his head when the light hurt his eyes. He was lying on his belly, back to the room, still clothed in his attire from the night before.

Sherlock sat up and looked about the room and...there was...Sarah. With John. In his arms. In his bed. Sleeping. Well...alright, then.

Sherlock stood, leaning against the wall to support himself. In their room, there was a tiny kitchen and Sherlock trudged over to it, getting some pain killers from his bag.

He felt like complete and utter shit. His head hurt, he felt sick, dehydrated, and above all, he wanted to go back in time and stop that kiss from happening. He wanted to stop himself from going to the party. Stop himself from ever acting friendly around John. **Oh, what a night.**

He made himself coffee, knowing it would make him feel more dehydrated, but he didn't care much right now.

Sherlock's phone buzzed and he walked back into the room part of their small flat, ignoring the sleeping couple. He picked it up and answered when he saw it was Mycroft.

''What?''

''Oh, how lovely,'' he said, sarcasm travelling all those miles and through the phone. ''So? Did you sleep on it? Think things over?''

Sherlock walked back into the kitchen and sat on the table. ''I just woke up, Mike.''

''It's  _Mycroft_  and oh, dear lord. One day at college and you're already living like a common pig.''

Sherlock rolled his eyes. ''How did  _you_  not get beaten up more often?''

''I don't let them get to me, brother.''

''Either do I!'' Sherlock answered, jumping to a childish defence. ''Why're you calling?''

''Like I said, I was wondering if you'd thought over this...''human error''?''

Sherlock sighed a little, taking another sip of his coffee. ''A little,'' he said. ''And while I have a feeling I may be upset by all this, I'll just do what I usually do.''

''And, that is...?''

''Move on, Mycroft.'' Sherlock said, standing. ''I move on and I don't care.'' 

''Ugh,'' Mycroft rolled his eyes. ''You've always been so human.''

 _Not human enough_ Sherlock thought, glancing at John and Sarah. ''Who needs humanity? It's overrated.''

''I'd have to agree with you there, Sherlock...So, you're alright now?''

''I will be.'' Sherlock answered, rinsing out his cup. ''I'm older now. I know how to deal with things.''

''Sherlock,'' Mycroft started in a stern voice. ''You wont hurt yourse-''

''Goodbye, Mike.'' Sherlock hung up and turned back to get his clothes out of his bag. Sarah was standing at the table, looking at him.

''Hello...Sherlock, wasn't it?''

Sherlock nodded. ''Yeah, and you're Sarah.''

''You've a weird name.''

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and nodded awkwardly. ''O...kay, then.'' he went to get his clothes bag again. She put a hand on his chest, stopping him and giving him a sweet smile.

''I need a word with you.''

Sherlock took a step back, more annoyed than wary. ''What?''

She stepped towards him. ''You can guess that me and John are a thing now?''

Sherlock nodded.

''Well, I just want you to know that he is mine. Not yours.''

Sherlock's eyes widened a fraction. ''I know he's not  _mine_.''

''Shut up.'' She snapped, making Sherlock's eyes widen even more. ''I saw that kiss. You fancy him. A lot. But, he's mine.''

Sherlock stared down at her, disbelieving of what ''sweet, funny Sarah'' was saying right now. ''You're mad.''

She gave a girlish giggle. ''Yeah, and if you tell him about this conversation...'' her smile dropped. ''I know people that can make you scream.''

Sherlock shook his head slightly, feeling shocked. He was about to make up an angry retaliation, when John walked into them. He walked up behind Sarah and wrapped his arms around her waist. 

''Hey, there.''

''Hey,'' She smiled, twisting around to see his face. 

Sherlock looked down at the both of them, feeling slightly frightened and disturbed. They started to whisper to each other, laughing and kissing. Sherlock swallowed hard and tore his eyes from the image. What the Hell was he supposed to do?


	4. Chapter Four

_What the Hell am I supposed to do?_  Sherlock sat in his microbiology class, beside John and not listening one single bit. Since yesterday, Sarah had constantly been throwing him looks whenever John's back was turned, and when they were left alone, she would remind him of her threat to have him hurt if he told John anything.

He didn't even tell Mycroft, which was a huge first. He wasn't scared, as such, more...wary. Very wary. Also confused. Did he fancy John? He'd only known him for a couple of days. It was a ridiculous idea, but then again, John had only known Sarah a few  _hours_  before they became ''aquainted''.

Dammit, he did like John. He didn't  _want_ to, but he did. And he would tell himself over and over in his head not be stupid or dramatic and to just 'get over it', but then he'd spot John and Sarah, laughing and kissing on John's bed and Sherlock would feel a pang of jealousy. It was interfering with his work and it was really starting to worry Sherlock.

''Sherlock!'' John hissed, bringing Sherlock out of his thoughts with a nudge of his arm.

''What? Oh-'' The class all looked at him with expectant faces.

''I asked you the definition of a 'Virus', Mr.Holmes.'' the teacher said, obviously agitated.

''Oh, sorry,uh...Viruses are the smallest micro-organisms and increase by invading other cells.''

The teacher stared at him curiously for a moment, then nodded. ''Pay attention,Mr.Holmes.''

Sherlock nodded and looked down, scribbling on his page, already starting to zone out again.

''You okay?'' John whispered. ''What's up?''

 _Your girlfriend's a lunatic and you're the first person I've ever fancied._  ''Nothing. Nothing's up.''

''Wow.You're a good liar.'' John whispered back dryly.

Sherlock glanced up at John, then back down. ''It's not important-''  _Then why is it plaguing your thoughts, Sherlock? ''-_ Really not important.''

John rolled his eyes. ''I don't know you well,'' John said. ''but, I can tell when someone's upset. Tell me-''

''John Watson!'' The teacher shouted. ''Would you like to share with us yours and Sherlock's wonderful conversation?''

John fell silent and looked down at his notes. ''Sorry sir.''

''Sorry, sir.'' Sherlock repeated, doodling once again.

The teacher turned and started to talk again, the rest of the class putting their full attention on him. Sherlock glanced at John from his silly drawings on his refill pad. John caught him staring and looked back. He sighed and started to write a note on a piece of paper. He ripped it out of his copy and slid it over to Sherlock, watching the teacher the whole time. Sherlock picked it up and held it under the desk. 

_I know something's up._ _Are you not liking college? JW_

Sherlock sighed and placed the small piece of paper on his desk. He hunched over, hiding what he wrote by bringing his head down to the desk's surface, his black curls brushing against the paper. He pulled back and and quickly dropped it on John's desk, not looking at John's face.

 _I hate it. SH_  

John frowned and looked at Sherlock a moment. He had placed his head against the desk again and he just looked like a black mop. John bit his lip and held in a giggle. He shook his head a little, bringing himself back to Sherlock's note. He frowned again, wondering how to respond. 

_Why? We haven't been a week here yet. You barely talk to anyone, anyway. You just need to adjust. JW_

He slipped the note into Sherlock's hand, making his head raise from the desk and look down at his hand. He saw the note and nodded to himself, bringing it back to his hunched over position. He sighed upon reading it and picked up his pen and wrote his reply, placing it into John's hand after.

_I don't care about making friends. It's nothing to do with that. I'm just not enjoying myself. I'm sort of tempted to just leave. SH_

John sighed again. The bell rang and he crumpled the piece of paper in his hand, pushing it into his pocket. He poked Sherlock on the shoulder and the younger of the two raised his head from the desk. He looked at John for a moment, then turned in his seat, picking up his bag and throwing his stuff into it.

''Sherlock?'' John asked, shrugging on his coat and standing as people started to file out of the room. 

''Mmm?'' Sherlock responded, standing himself and pulling his haversack onto his back, 

''Like I said, I don't know you well...but, you're acting all depressed. Like...just...are you okay?''

Sherlock looked at John, feeling all of him just melt at John's show of caring, but he kept a neutral expression on his face and cleared his throat. He picked up his coat and held it in his arms. He tried a smile. ''I'm fine. You said I need to adjust...maybe you're right.''

John smiled back a little. ''Yeah? See? When I went to the army at first, I was incredibly home-sick. You get used to it, and it gets easier the more friends you make.''

Sherlock sighed a little and started to walked towards the door, John following him. ''I don't know about that, now.''

John laughed a little to himself and jogged to catch up with Sherlock. ''Oh, come on. You're talking to me right now. We're friends, right?''

Sherlock looked down at John as they walked out of the room and into the halls, and eventually gave an almost reluctant nod. ''I suppose...'' he said, trying to smother a smile.

John grinned and poked his arm. ''See? Friends! It happens easier than you're telling yourself, Sherlock.''

Sherlock shook his head as they walked, a small smile playing on his lips. ''Even still...''

John just continued to grin. He stopped them walking at a split in the corridor. ''Look, I've got to go meet up with Sarah.''

Sherlock felt the happiness he had felt quickly vaporize and he nodded. ''Sure, yep. I'll be back at the dorm.''

John nodded and smiled, turning around and down a corridor. Sherlock watched him go and sighed once he was out of sight. This needed to be sorted out. Maybe he should obliterate their newly-found companionship. It would only cause Sherlock discomfort and make Sarah more bitter towards him. What was the point in caring?


	5. Chapter Five

Eventually, Sherlock did settle into a routine. He was used to it now, into their second month of college. But, dear Lord, that didn't mean it was a healthy routine. Life was out and out miserable. Wake up to the lovely sight of John nuzzling into Sarah, promptly bite back the bile which rose in his throat at the view, then get out of the dorm before either could wake. He would meet John in class and say goodbye until much later. There was a break of a few hours in which Sherlock and John had the flat to themselves.

It was during this break in Sherlock's seventh week that he decided he should tell John everything...The fact that he had been drinking only  _maybe just slightly_  altered his judgment.

Sherlock lay face-down on his bed, chatting to John in a tired voice.

''...But you should've been there, Sherl'. It was a good party. Sarah and me were there. You would've had company.''

''I've told you. I don't like parties. And, my name is  _Sherlock_.''

John let out a little laugh. ''You're not as anti-social as you claim to be. I see through that clear as day.''

Sherlock lifted his head and turned around to see John. ''I have one friend.''

''You have Sarah too.''

Sherlock looked over at John a moment, then stood, bringing his can with him. ''You've been with her a while now.''

John smiled, watching Sherlock walk into the kitchen. ''Yeah, I have. Why?''

Sherlock knocked back a gulp and looked into John from the kitchen. ''Do you love her?'

John laughed lightly, giving Sherlock a stern look. ''That's a little personal, don't you think?''

''Yes.'' Sherlock deadpanned, looking right at John.

''Well...'' John hesitated. ''I don't know. I only met her.''

''You see each other every day. If love at first sight can happen, love over two months can occur too.''

John gave a nod, silently considering this. ''Have you ever been in love?'' John took a sip of his beer. ''You, the socially-awkward one. Love anyone?''

Sherlock turned and made a show of looking through their cabinets. ''I might have. See, I've never felt it before, so I don't know if what I felt, what I  _feel_... is love.'' He pulled up. ''I'd much rather it wasn't honestly.'' he finished quietly.

John looked up at Sherlock with a curious expression. ''Who was he?''

Sherlock smiled a little to himself, not looking at John. ''Somebody different.''

John smiled at the sincere and soft expression on Sherlock's face. ''So, why aren't you off with him?''

''Who would love me?'' Sherlock laughed, looking up at John.

John didn't laugh along and he frowned. ''Don't say that about yourself.''

Sherlock's smile dropped. ''I'm being truthful. Not modest.  _Honest._ ''

John rolled his eyes. ''Sherlock, you're different, I'll give you that, but you're not repellent.''

''Well, it doesn't matter. He is taken.'' Sherlock responded, trying a shrug. ''I don't care.''

John snorted. ''Sure, and that's why you look so happy about it.'' He crossed his legs on the bed, still looking into Sherlock. ''I tell you about Sarah.''

 _I really wish you wouldn't._  ''It's different. You're actually with her.''

'' 'S still someone you fancy and I'm your mate.''

Sherlock sighed and turned to John completely. ''What does it matter?!'' he exclaimed. ''It's never going to happen! Why get my hopes up by talking about them?!''

John fell silent, feeling partly guilty, and also a little rejected. ''Alright, sorry for asking.'' he mumbled, taking a sip of his beer.

Sherlock faltered, having not meant to be rude to him. ''...I've been told not to tell you!'' he blurted out daringly.

John looked back up to him and raised an eyebrow, looking a little concerned for his friend. ''What are you talking about, Sherlock?'' Even in his mildly drunken state, he could tell this was serious.

''Sarah!'' He said quickly. He did not know why he was saying this now, or why he suddenly didn't care about the threat hanging over his head. 

John raised himself, his curiosity piqued. He eyed Sherlock warily and walked to him. ''What about her?'' he crossed his arms over his chest.

Sherlock stared down at John, flustered for a moment. He took a calming breath and nodded at him. He just had to say it. Rip off the band aid and say it. ''She...she said I couldn't tell you who I may love.''

John didn't look happy and he licked his lips, a hint of annoyance in his stance. ''Why would she tell you to do that? And, if she did, why would  _you_  listen?''

He looked angry and Sherlock was worried that maybe he just should have kept his mouth shut. ''She threatened me.''

Okay, yeah. He looked pissed now. John let out an unhappy laugh, huffing a breath out through his nose. ''She threatened you?'' He laughed coldly again. ''Sherlock, do you know how ridiculous this lie is?! Sarah,  _my_  Sarah, threatened you? She wouldn't touch a fly!''

Sherlock swallowed hard. ''People, like Sarah, tend to do silly things to try and stay with someone they like...'' He spoke slowly, pacing his words to try and get his point across.

John widened his eyes and his eyebrows shot up. ''This isn't funny, Sherlock! The fact that you're still trying to convince me! That's...That's sick!''

Sherlock gaped at him. ''Why would I make this up?! Why would I bother lying about this?!''

''I don't know!'' John shouted, storming back into his bed. ''You're you! You're always looking for attention!'' he growled, tugging on his jacket.

Sherlock stared at him for a few seconds, the words taking some time to process. He blinked, bringing himself back to their argument. ''She's insane! Sarah is insane! How can you not see that?!''

John looked at Sherlock with wide eyes, restraining himself from throwing a punch. ''You think  _she's_  insane! Look in the mirror, you freak!''

John wrenched their door open and stormed out. ''Don't bother waiting up!'' he shouted over his shoulder.


	6. Chapter Six

Sarah's door was flung open as soon as she heard John's loud bang.

''John! Jesus, what's wrong?''

He stormed in past Sarah, anger rolling off him in waves. ''Sherlock! That's what's wrong!''

She eyed John warily, then shut the door with a soft click. ''What did he do?''

John turned to Sarah, licking his lips. He smiled, trying to contain his anger. ''Sherlock, he...he said some things about you.''

Sarah felt an anger curl inside her,and with no hesitation, she walked over to her phone. She tapped out a text, then turned back to John. ''So, you know that I threatened him?''

John stopped, his heaving chest stilling and he stared at his girlfriend with the most hurt expression he could muster. ''He was telling the truth?''

She barked a laugh, a crisp, cold sound, ''What else was I going to do?! He so obviously fancied you, but you. Are. Mine.''

John gaped at her, then laughed in disbelief. ''You don't own me. You never have! And, you have never had any right to make Sherlock hide his feelings! How could you do that?! You already know how difficult he finds them!''

''I don't fucking care!'' She screamed. ''He's a fucking freak-''

''Freak.'' John mumbled. Oh God, he had been so horrible to him. He didn't realize how hard that must have been for Sherlock to tell him.

She walked up to John and cupped his cheek. ''Yes, babe. He's a freak.''

John looked at her with fiery eyes and he jerked his head back sharply. ''Sarah, we are completely and entirely through.'' 

She blinked at him, then turned angry again. ''Why are you such a selfish dick?!''

John let out a booming laugh and stepped towards the door. ''Well, you are completely mad. How did I not see that?''

She made a frustrated growl. ''Just get out! Run along to that stupid boyfriend, who...'' She looked at the clock on the wall. ''...Should be getting kicked in the head right about now.''

John wasted no time in feeding off his anger on Sarah, and he tore from the room.

 

Fifteen minutes later, John stumbled into their dorm, out of breath, his face red. The door had been wide open, with a clear view of Sherlock picking himself up off the kitchen floor. He used the table, leaning on it heavily with shaking arms. His shirt was ripped and his lip was bleeding. He had a bruise forming over his right eyebrow and he looked pretty shaken.

A small crowd had formed outside their door, and John slammed it shut,clicking locked, before rushing over to help Sherlock up.

''Oh, God. Oh my God, I'm so sorry!''

Sherlock gave a grunt and glanced at John. He leaned against the table with his left hand, his right; wrapped around his middle.

''Ahh, John.'' He recognized him in a weak voice. ''It's good to see you've come to your senses.''

''I am so sorry. I-I can't believe-''

''How much of an idiot you've been? Yes. Quite, but I do believe you are medically trained. Can you help me out here?''

John nodded dumbly, his hands going around Sherlock's waist to help him over to his bed. Sherlock sat down with a huff of breath.

John quickly set to work, dabbing blood away and putting cream on potential bruises. A heavy silence hung in the room. Neither knew if they should approach the subject of Sherlock's revealed feelings. Also, John felt so dreadfully guilty. He didn't know how to begin apologizing...but now was a good time to try.

''Sherlock...I can't believe...'' He sighed, putting the cloth down on the bed beside Sherlock. ''You have no idea how sorry-''

''No, I do.'' Sherlock answered, not looking at John's face. ''I know how guilty you feel. I know that you are genuinely sorry too.''

''I am. I am so sorry, and you are not a freak.''

Sherlock looked at John now. ''Thank you.'' he smiled a little. ''And, I do forgive you. Of course I do.''

John relaxed a bit, but he still felt discomfort within himself. It had still all happened. Sherlock sighed and stood, discarding the used cloth in the bin by his bed. 

''We should go to the Head. This needs to be reported.'' Sherlock mumbled, tugging at his ripped shirt.

''We'll do that in the morning.'' John replied, standing up beside Sherlock.

''Why not now? I'm fine. It doesn't hurt much.''

John licked his lips nervously. ''No, because now...Well, now...''

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, looking down at him. ''Now, what? I-''

Sherlock was cut off by John pressing his lips against his own. His eyes widened in shock and he pulled back.

John stared up at him, ears tinged red. ''I-I'm sorry!''

''No! No, that was...Fine.'' He cleared his throat and pointed at his mouth. ''Just...my lip.''

''Oh.'' John responded. ''...Can we still kiss anyway?''

''Oh, yes, please.'' Sherlock answered hurriedly, pulling John back to kiss him. He blocked out the small pinch of pain he felt and wound his arms around John's waist.

John kissed back hungrily, hands tangling into those luscious curls. He had felt it the first night, when they had kissed, and he was feeling it again. Oh, he'd been an idiot, because this was amazing. This was what felt right.

Sherlock kept John close, kissing the lips he had dreamt about for so many, many nights. He felt John start to push him back until his back hit the wall. He opened his mouth against John's, giving him access to deepen the kiss.

John's hands moved down to Sherlock's hips, and he gently palmed against him once with his hand. Sherlock gave a small jump and broke the kiss.

''Wait, what?'' He looked down between them, then back up quickly. ''Really?''

John drew his hand back, blushing from embarrassment. ''We don't have to. Sorry.'' he mumbled.

Sherlock gulped, John still close to him, lips only centimetres from his own. ''No, I just...didn't think you'd want to.''

John blushed harder and he looked at Sherlock. ''I'm game...You?''

Sherlock looked at John a moment, then pulled him closer. ''Most definitely.'' Sherlock answered eagerly, kissing John once again as they stumbled back to bed in each others arms.


	7. Chapter Seven

They were  _the_  couple people talked about. Both good and bad rumours circulated at the speed of light. Apparently they'd been fucking the whole time behind Sarah's back. Sherlock seemed to have beaten himself up for attention. John also had AIDs now. These were the worst of the rumours, and most people didn't believe them anyway. Most people pretended not to give a crap, but it definitely was scandalous, what with Sarah getting banned from stepping foot on campus grounds.

But the two the rumours were based on, best friends, boyfriends, Sherlock and John, were so very happy. They found they were quite comfortable with each other, straight away on their first night.

It was amazing. At first, it had been a little awkward, and they had been nervous to touch each other. Without either of them having to say it, it was evident Sherlock was inexperienced. For John, that only made it more...personal and loving to know that Sherlock placed this trust in him. After it was awkward, it was...Oh, it was fantastic. Yes, Sherlock and John were a happy couple. They fit easily. They flowed without problem with both their timetables and they just  _understood_  each other. Sherlock enjoyed college.

Sherlock was pouring over his notes on an upcoming test in his microbiology class. John, who had the same test tomorrow, had his feet up on the bed, laptop on his knees.

''Hey, Sherlock?''

''Mmm?'' Sherlock responded, eyes closely following each line of his textbook.

''How many weeks till Christmas?''

Sherlock kept his head in his book at the kitchen table, not looking up. 

''Sherlock?'' John called for his attention.

No response.

''Let's have sex.''

Sherlock's head popped up. ''What?''

John smirked and looked back at his open email. ''I asked how long it was until Christmas?''

''Oh, uh...two weeks tomorrow.''

''What are you doing for Christmas?''

 ''First week of holidays, I was just going to stay here. Second, I'm going to visit my family.''

John nodded. ''Well...how would you feel about coming back to my parent's house with me for the first week?''

Sherlock cocked his head to the side. ''Really? You want to introduce me to your family?''

''No, you're just my boyfriend.'' John scowled. '' _Yes_. You're important to me, Sherl',-''

'' _Sherlock_ ''

''-And my family should meet you.''

Sherlock smiled a bit and stood, closing over his books. ''This makes us seem rather serious, doesn't it?''

''Yeah, I guess it does.'' John paused. ''...Aren't we?''

Sherlock hesitated. ''...I don't know. When does it usually become officially serious?''

''When I invite you over to meet my parents, that's when.''

Sherlock smiled lightly to himself and nodded. ''Then, I'll go with you, on the conditions that you come to meet my family on the second week.''

''Don't you think we'll want some time apart?''

''Oh, that's delightful, that.''

''No, Sherlock.'' John gave an exasperated sigh. ''You know that's not what I mean.''

''Then, what?''

John let out a breath and pulled himself up. He walked over to Sherlock and kissed his lips briefly, softly. ''Sherlock,'' his voice was gentle. ''We've talked about this. There is no need for you to feel insecure about us. I am serious about you, and...''  _I love you_. ''...All I meant was that we could just take two or three days alone with our families, then I'll go up to you and spend the rest of break with you. Yeah? Sound good?''

Sherlock looked at John for a moment, then managed a little smile and he nodded. ''Yeah,'' he said, briefly kissing John's lips. ''Yeah, let's go with that.''

John grinned and kissed Sherlock again. ''So, what's your family like?''

Sherlock pouted a little in thought. ''...I think you'll like my Dad. My Mum's a little weird, and my brother...''Sherlock shook his head a little, letting out a breath. ''If you think I'm weird, you'll be surprised by him.''

John smiled fondly up at Sherlock and gave a little nod. ''Not as weird as my sister.''

Sherlock chuckled. ''I'm positive Mycroft is weirder than Harriet. I've seen your texts with your sister. She's  _normal_. Mycroft is not. Mycroft is an enigma.''

John shook his head and gently pulled back from Sherlock, walking back to his bed. ''Well, I can't wait to meet your family. It'll be a good thing to do, Sherlock.'' he smiled, before sitting at the edge of his bed.

Sherlock hesitated. ''I suppose.''

John frowned. ''What?''

''It's just...'' Sherlock cleared his throat, straightening out his back. ''I don't have the best history with...making good first impressions.''

''You made a fine one on me.'' John grinned.

Sherlock blushed and rolled his eyes through it, sitting down on his own bed (that hadn't been slept in, in more than week now). ''No, seriously, John.''

John pulled his legs up so he was sitting with them crossed. ''Sherlock, you're my boyfriend. If I like you, then so will my family. Just try not to murder them or something, and I'm sure we'll be on the right track to charming them.''

Sherlock shook his head, rolling his eyes again. He lay down on his back. ''Okay, fine.''

John smiled to himself, and brought himself up. He sat beside Sherlock on his bed, and looked down to him, a fond look in his eyes. ''Should I be nervous to meet your family?''

''Yes,'' Sherlock answered immediately, making John give a look of instant worry. Sherlock, seeing his mistake, sat up and shook his head. ''No,no,no. Not like that.'' He bit his lip.

''Then, how?'' John asked, fiddling with his jumper now. 

''...They're just weird, like I said. They'll be gawking over you. 'Sherlock's first friend he's brought back to the house'. Shocking to them, believe me.'' Sherlock ended in a murmur. 

John smiled sadly. ''I'm honoured to be your first.'' he answered, placing one finger under Sherlock's chin, tilting his face to his own, then kissing him lightly. 

Sherlock was blushing again, and once again, he was surprised by how moved he felt by John's words. By John's show of caring.  _Genuine_  caring. It meant a lot to Sherlock. He softly returned the kiss for a moment, eyes fluttering closed briefly. 

John pulled back and poked Sherlock's nose. ''We have a test.''

''Yes, we do.'' Sherlock said, smiling back at him. 

John stood and picked up Sherlock's book from the kitchen table. He walked back to Sherlock and sat in between Sherlock's legs, leaning against his chest. And, they studied together.


	8. Chapter Eight

Sherlock and John were on the train to John's parent's house. Sherlock wasn't really excited, but he supposed there would be some nice memories made here. They sat beside each other at the window, cramped together in the cheapest seats beside one another they could afford.

Between them, their hands were held, while they both tapped out messages on their phones, minding their own business and just enjoying each other's company in peace.

Though, it wasn't really that peaceful. Sherlock could tell John was on-edge. He was snappy, he was being rude and constantly letting out (annoying) sighs. Sherlock knew it was dangerous territory in approaching the subject, but he wanted to reassure himself that it was not caused by himself.

He clicked his phone off and pushed it into his pocket, leaning over to John, so their shoulders squished together.

''Hey, John?'' he whispered amongst the chatter of fellow passengers.

''Mmm?'' John responded, briefly glancing up from his phone before looking down again. Sherlock resisted the urge to read his message.

''Are you okay?'' he asked in a soft voice, treading carefully. ''You seem a little off.''

John looked up. He knew he was kidding no one, especially when it came to Sherlock. He had hoped Sherlock would've assumed it was travel-sickness, but obviously not.

''Oh?'' He tried to keep up his act. ''No, I'm not off. 'm fine.''

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and leaned closer. He squeezed John's hand. ''Please tell me. I could help.''

John sighed and he too put down his phone. ''Sherlock...''

''No. Come on. You always make me talking if you think I'm upset. You're no exception to that. Tell me,'' he licked his lips. ''Did I do something wrong?''

''What? No!'' John quickly said, fixing his posture in his seat. ''No, sorry, no. You haven't done anything to upset me. It's not you.''

Sherlock kept his relief contained, and he continued with a calm expression. ''Then, what is it?''

John sighed again, and a look of complete and genuine anxiousness passed over his features, making Sherlock feel a shoot of concern.

''What's wrong?'' He asked, kissing John's knuckles. 

John looked up to meet Sherlock's gaze. He bit his lip, hand subconsciously tightening around Sherlock's.

''I...'' he cleared his throat. ''I haven't seen my parents since I joined the army.''

Sherlock raised his eyebrow. ''...That's a long time. How come?''

John surprised Sherlock by the appearance of tears in his eyes. Sherlock's eyes flared with worry and he raised one hand to cup John's cheek. ''Tell me.''

''When I...came out as bi to them, they told me not to come back from war.'' John's voice was thick as he spoke and tears slipped down. Sherlock moved himself so he blocked John from other passengers, protecting him. He continued talking in whispers, eyes wider.

 ''...They didn't like that you're attracted to men?''

John shook his head. ''And, now they said they were willing to meet up with me...''

''Why on earth are you bringing me with you?'' Sherlock asked hurriedly, voice slightly raised. 

''I don't know!'' John spluttered. ''Because you're my boyfriend! And-and you're a big part of my life! They should be aware of your existence in it, because you're important.''

Sherlock stared at John silently for a moment, mouth suddenly dry. He cleared his throat and licked his lips. ''Okay,'' he nodded. ''Okay, I can understand that, but what happens if they kick me out of your house?''

''Then I come with you.'' John said determinedly.

''John...'' Sherlock said slowly, shaking his head. ''This is your  _family_...I'm just me.''

''You're not ''just'' anything! Not to me, Sherlock!''

Sherlock shifted in his seat and licked his lips again. ''I wont forgive myself if I worsen your relationship with your parents!''

John tightened his jaw and he looked out his window. ''We're more than half way there. Can't go back now.''

''You shouldn't have kept that from me. John, you should've told me.'' Sherlock shook his head, leaning back in his seat, arms crossed across his chest.

There was a long time were neither talked to the other, pissed off, yes, but also just worrying about each other.

After too long a wait, John leaned over and pecked Sherlock's cheek, before nuzzling into his neck. ''I should have told you, you're right.''

Sherlock gulped and looked down to John. ''I should've been more caring. This is hard for you.'' he answered, wrapping an arm around John.

John smiled and shut his eyes, leaning into Sherlock.  _Tell him you love him_ rang through both their heads.

''Thanks, Sherlock.''

''No problem, John.''

 

Soon, they were tugging two suitcases behind them from the train station.

''It's just down here.'' John said, muscles straining.  _Wow, I need to start working out again._

Sherlock groaned at the weight of his bags and nodded. ''Nice...' he panted. ''Village here.''

John nodded and turned a corner, a horrible wave of anxiety washing over him. ''Just that house there.'' he nodded to the first house at the edge of the opposite road.

They placed their bags down outside the front door and John looked at Sherlock before knocking on the door.

After a near minute, the door swung open. A small women with mousy-brown hair stepped forward, smiling. ''John!''

It was so false, Sherlock nearly cringed. He watched their stiff hug, and he saw her notice him. 

''John...'' he could hear the worry in her voice.  _Worry of what? That John is happy with someone?_ ''Who's this?''

John's words got caught in his throat, and he was honestly terrified of what she would say. So, he panicked. He quickly put some space between himself aand Sherlock. ''My mate!'' he blurted out. ''My friend. Good  _friend_ , Sherlock Holmes.''

Sherlock looked to John, but went with it, trying not to feel hurt. He smiled politely at his mother and accepted her awkward hug. 

She shuffled inside, ushering them to follow her. She went out of sight, and Sherlock placed a hand on John's arm.

''What was that?'' he hissed.

''I-I panicked!'' he gasped. ''I'm so sorry. We'll...we'll tell them at dinner, okay?''

Sherlock sighed and nodded. ''Fine, fine, they're your parents.''

John gave him another look to try say sorry, and he stepped in with his bags. Sherlock took a deep breath and followed.


	9. Chapter Nine

Nothing was said at dinner. John's parents didn't even join them. It was all just tense silences and the clanging of cutlery. Sherlock wasn't angry, per say, but he was definitely hurt. He tried not to be. He understood John's position, and he was able to empathise, but...he just wished John could be a bit more proud. It was disheartening.

They slept in separate bedrooms, and neither got much sleep. John felt immensely guilty. He knew Sherlock already felt insecure about being in a relationship because of past experiences, and now John had only gone and made it worse. And, it was those insecurities that led Sherlock to a sleepless night. John tried texting him, telling Sherlock that everything between them was still okay, and that he was sorry.

They went three more days as such, with barely any time to be alone together. Sherlock had hoped for happy memories to be made here. How wrong he had been. It was on the fourth night, Christmas Eve, that the tension was finally released. It was the first night John's parents had joined them for dinner.

''So, John tells me you were travelling?'' Sherlock politely tried to bring up conversation. John sat at his right, his father; Frank was across from Sherlock and his wife; Emily sat next to her husband.

John's mother looked up at Sherlock, that strained smile appearing on her features again. ''Yes,'' she nodded, swallowing down her food, before speaking again. ''For six months, we went to different parts of Africa. It was wonderful, wasn't it, Frank?'' She laid a hand on her husband's arm and he gave a small nod and a grunt in response. Then, she pouted. ''It's why we didn't get to see poor John for so long.'' She smiled sadly at her son.

John tensed beside Sherlock.  _No, **Mother** , I hadn't seen you for over two years. Lies. Lies. _Sherlock paused, and his eyes dashed between John and his parents. There was a brief moment of silence, which was taken over by John's father, but he asked the wrong question. 

''So, Sherlock, young chap like you. Seeing anyone?''

Sherlock's jaw tightened and his fork gave a quaver before he calmly placed it down.

''Um...Yes, yes, I am.''

Frank smiled good-naturedly. ''Who is she, then? She treat you well?''

Sherlock stared across at him for a moment, he knew the right thing to do would be to respond politely and quickly dismiss the conversation, but he had had enough of John's stupid, idiotic, homophobic parents.

''Oh, _she_  is just great. Perfect, even. I adore spending time with  _her_ , because  _she_  is so special to me, but...You know, it's gone a little sour.''

Sherlock saw John bite his trembling lip and he kept his gaze averted. Frank and Emily both shifted uncomfortably in their seats. 

''Oh?'' Emily asked in a polite voice.

''Yep.'' Sherlock stared right at her, popping the 'p'. He leaned forward, catching her eyes and keeping the contact.

''You see,  _her_  parents don't approve. And, that really upsets  _her,_ but they're too big a couple of idiots to try and put it right. I mean...'' Sherlock laughed loudly, bitterly. All eyes were trained on him. ''Who on earth is it hurting that  _she_  chose to be with me? We care about each other, just as any other couple would. Just like  _her_  own parents. Love is love, right?'' He leaned back in his chair, his anger making his shoulders shake, and making tears appear in his eyes. John watched Sherlock with fearful eyes. Sherlock didn't cry. Not ever.

''Sherlock...'' he muttered gently, his parents too shocked to speak.

''No, John!'' Sherlock said, looking back to him for a second, before staring at his parents. ''It's not fair on  _her_.'' he spat out the word. ''I can see how much it hurts, and it is  _killing_  me, because why should anyone dare try and taint the first time I've had a positive relationship? Who has the  _right_ to question...'' tears were now fresh on his face, and his voice went quiet as he finished. ''...Who I...love.'' he sniffed. ''Who should question that?'' he shook his head.

Everybody was quiet in the room and Sherlock's cheeks heated quickly before he stood up. ''Sorry, I seem to have...rambled.'' He cleared his throat and fixed his shirt. ''Excuse me-''

''Sherlock, no.'' John cut him off. ''Sit down.''

''No, I should really-''

''Do you want them to know or not?'' John answered. He suddenly looked a lot more confident. He looked certain, and as Sherlock took this in he nodded, seating himself slowly. 

''Only if you're sure.'' He said gently, eyes and smile sad as his eyes raked over John's equally drained and hurt expressions.

''I am.'' John nodded, trying to boost his confidence. He was terrified, but Sherlock confessing his love like that, with all those words, with such daring in front of his parents...It gave John a push. He needed to do this. Not just for Sherlock, but for himself. For closure.

Emily's hands were trembling and Frank was looking between the two boys with scared eyes, his face noticeably paler. 

''John, what's going on?'' John's mother asked in a quiet voice. She was furious. Quietly so, she acted the same as John did when he was angry. Reserved. 

John swallowed hard and took Sherlock's hand. ''Sherlock's my boyfriend, Mum.'' he said with a small smile. Not a sad smile, or a happy smile, but a smile that showed he knew this was hard for his parents...But, it was what he'd chosen. 

It went quiet again. It went quiet for way too long and Sherlock could feel John's hand sweating, but he clutched it tightly and rubbed circles over John's skin. Sherlock stayed quiet, he didn't feel he had a right to say anymore than he had, but he wished someone would just break the silence already. Break this ridiculous tension. 

''Out.'' His father said suddenly, curtly, in a loud voice. He looked right at John and leaned forward. ''Get out.  _Now_.''

John was shaking with grief and anger and he quickly shot up from the table. He knocked over a glass, spilling wine, then another and another, then stomped out of the room, slamming the door shut. Sherlock let him be angry. He was angry too, but more upset for John. John's parents turned their gaze to Sherlock almost simultaneously. He nodded and stood.

''Yeah, yeah, I'm going.'' He sighed, but turned back to them once more. ''You are so blinded. Both of you are so,  _so_  wrong. John is a wonderful man, and you're missing out on so much. He is caring and accepting and strong...Luckily, in this case, he is nothing like his parents.'' Sherlock opened the door, they were staring at him with fuming looks on their faces. ''I just hope you grow out of this bigotry, and learn to love your son the  _right_ way.'' And, then he too slammed the door.


	10. Chapter Ten

Once John had angrily hauled their hurriedly packed bags out of the house, they walked silently to the near-by train station. John bought tickets for the next train to Sherlock's parent's town. He lugged their bags beside a bench, that he flopped down upon, almost aggressively. Sherlock frowned down at him. It was dark and empty on the platform, and he reached down to gently kiss the top of John's head. 

''I'm just going to call my Mum and tell her we're coming early, okay?'' Sherlock asked in a soft voice, hiding his own wariness. John looked up at him and nodded silently. Sherlock swallowed and ran a hand through John's hair, before pulling away and taking out his phone. He stood a good few paces from John so he wouldn't overhear their conversation. He held the phone to his ear and waited for his mother to answer her phone. 

''Sherlock?'' she asked, voice drenched in disbelief. ''Are we doing Christmas phone-calls now?''

''Mum, I'm coming home a few days early. I'm taking the next train.''

She was silent for a moment. ''Well, that's wonderful dear, but why?''

''I'm bringing my boyfriend with me, and I-''

''Boyfriend?!'' she exclaimed loudly. ''You've got a  _boyfriend_?'' her voice was happy.

''Yes,'' Sherlock hissed, dropping his voice. ''And, I'd appreciate it if you would dilute your delight because me and my boyfriend John have just been kicked out of his homophobic parent's house. He's really not happy, and-and I'm not quite sure what to do, so we're coming to you early.''

Again, she went quiet. ''Oh, dear. Dear, I'm so sorry. You come on over here for as long as you need, and bring your boyfriend too.''

Sherlock nodded, relaxing a little. ''Thank you. I just...I didn't know what to do and John is-''

''It'll be fine, Sherlock. I'm sure John is lovely, and I'll tell Mycroft and your father not to stare or make any inappropriate comments.''

''Thank you. Now, I need to get back to John.''

''Alright, I'll set up your room for you two, okay?''

''Okay. Bye, Mum.'' Sherlock hung up and sighed as he pocketed his phone. He sat down by John and buried his hands in his pockets, hand clutched around his phone. ''John...''

John lifted his head, looking to Sherlock. ''That was really brave, what you said.'' John said, eyes gazing over his boyfriend's face. 

Sherlock shook his head and looked down, sliding down in his seat a bit. ''No, it was inappropriate. I shouldn't have said a thing.''

John shook his head, leaning forward to try and see Sherlock's face more clearly. ''Sherlock, it was...the best way I could've told them. And, I feel a lot better knowing that they got to like you before they found out what we are. Cause...Now they know that, no matter how hard they try to deny it, we're just a normal couple. We're just as normal as the couple with a man and a woman.''

Sherlock lifted his gaze to see John, he smiled briefly, but he still looked troubled. ''But, if I hadn't said anything, you'd be spending Christmas day with your parents. No, I...'' he looked across the platform. ''I messed up.'' 

John sighed and let him be, knowing that Sherlock wouldn't allow him to win any argument. And, right now, John didn't want to argue. He wanted to pride in the fact that Sherlock was his. He had been too late in flaunting his wonderful partner, so he was determined to show his admiration from now on.

John snuggled close to Sherlock, wrapping his arms around Sherlock's bicep and holding against his arm like a teddy-bear. He kissed Sherlock's shoulder, before laying his head there. It went quiet for a little while, the only sound came from the rattling hum of trains stationed, and a soft sound of trees rustling in the night's chilly breeze. John licked his lips and lightly tapped out 'H-E-L-L-O' in Morse code onto Sherlock's arm. He was sure Sherlock would understand, he was the type of person who would. Sherlock paused, and cocked his head to the side, before smiling a little. He looked down to John. ''Hello.'' he said softly.

John kept his head down as he took a moment before continuing his message. He felt a little nervous, but he forced himself to go on. Sherlock stared down at the top of John's head expectantly. ''Yes?'' he asked, noticing a hesitance in John's movements. John shook his head and Sherlock let it go, turning his gaze back to the boring, brick walls. 

''I love you.'' John tapped out onto Sherlock's arms carefully. Sherlock blinked a little, then turned his gaze back to John. The older of the two had hidden his face in Sherlock's shoulder, suddenly afraid even though Sherlock had said the same only hours before. 

''Hey, look at me.'' Sherlock said softly, smiling to himself. He brushed his thumb across John's cheek. ''Let me see that pretty face.'' he cooed.

John blushed and lifted his head to look up at Sherlock. Sherlock smiled at him, cupped his cheek, before kissing him softly. John couldn't help but smile and he shifted even closer, into Sherlock's welcoming, warm and ready arms.

Sherlock laughed a little and pulled back. ''See, that wasn't so hard to say. I don't know why I avoided it.''

''Neither do I.'' John admitted with a sheepish smile. He kissed Sherlock's cheek, then nuzzled against his neck. ''I love you, Sherlock.'' he said out loud this time, smiling at the happiness it brought him to finally say it. 

Sherlock grinned and hugged him tight. ''I love you too, John.'' He gave a little triumphant smile for himself and shut his eyes, waiting for the train.


	11. Chapter Eleven

It was nearing ten o'clock when Sherlock and John arrived at the gates to his slightly oversized house. They got out of their taxi and took their bags. Sherlock walked to a small intercom in the wall and pressed down on the button. The machine crackled to life and you could hear the distant sound of Christmas music.

''Mum?'' Sherlock spoke into the mouth piece. ''Can you let us in?''

''Sherlock!'' She sounded so overjoyed at his presence. John was jealous, yes, but he couldn't  _not_  smile when someone sounded so wonderfully content. ''I'm letting you in, come right up.'' There was a buzzing noise from the gate and Sherlock stepped back as it slowly opened. He looked to John, picking up both his bags again.

''You okay?''

John smiled softly and nodded. ''Yeah. I am okay, Sherlock.''

He kissed his cheek once before setting them along the small drive up to his house. ''I've got a double bed, so you can sleep in with me.''

''Good.'' John said simply, smiling. ''Good, I've missed you.''

They were greeted warmly by Sherlock's enthusiastic mother. She clapped her hands upon sighting John. She explained that Sherlock's father was in bed, and that Mycroft (now with a very important job, apparently) would be home in the morning. Soon, the couple were sat around the kitchen island, with Sherlock's mum making them hot cocoa. 

''This is very kind of you, Mrs.Holmes.'' John said, graciously accepting the warm mug into his cold hands. 

She batted a hand in the air, just like Sherlock did and shook her head. ''I love having Sherlock home, and any company he decides to bring with him.''

John smiled warmly at her, then turned to his oddly quiet boyfriend. ''Tired, Sherlock?''

''A bit.'' he sipped his hot chocolate, keeping the cup against his lips, savouring the heat.

''I have your bed ready, Sherlock.'' his mum offered.

Sherlock nodded to show his thanks, before resting his head on the counter-top of the island. John giggled and ruffled Sherlock's hair. ''Go to bed, you goon.''

Sherlock smiled vaguely and lifted his head to look at John. ''Okay,'' he stood and kissed the top of his head. ''Night John, night Mum.''

Mrs.Holmes nodded a little late, looking somewhat thrown. John swallowed a laugh at the expression on her face and placed down his mug. ''What is it?''

She blinked at John for a few seconds. ''Sorry, just...''

''I know.'' John smiled. ''He's changed since I first met him, but don't worry, he's still Sherlock.''

She smiled at him. ''That's good to hear. How long have you been a couple?''

''Few months'' John said, nodding. ''He's my room mate, you see.''

''Oh, yes. I was wondering. Sherlock doesn't set out to make friends.''

''I've noticed, but that's okay if that's what he wants.''

She seemed to gave gone into shock again.  _He accepts him. Thank God Sherlock found John_. ''...Yeah. It is what he wants.''

John gave another bemused smile at the look on her face and stood, finishing his drink in one long gulp. ''I think I'll sleep too.'' He placed his cup in the sink and turned to her. ''Where's Sherlock's room?''

Mrs. Holmes directed John to the room, then set off the bed herself, after setting the presents from ''Santa'' out on the rug in the lounge. John found a sleeping Sherlock curled up in a four-poster bed. John looked around the room a bit first. There were no pictures of friends, no posters, no evidence of a lively childhood. If you looked, John thought, you would find this to be a sad room, deprived of friendship and of what childhood means. John stripped down to his boxers and got in beside Sherlock, gazing at his face. He didn't deserve to be alone. Just because he was smart, because he was brilliant, Sherlock was targeted. And that broke John's heart.

''Sherlock?'' he whispered. Sherlock stirred a little and John tried again, this time forcing a conscious grunt out of the younger man. 

''I'm glad I met you, Sherlock.'' John whispered. Sherlock brought up a sleepy smile, eyes still closed as he pulled John against his chest. John smiled and nuzzled against him, falling asleep in minutes.

 

''Do you think Santa came?''

John snorted and looked over at Sherlock. They both still laid in bed, a blue morning light illuminating the room. ''You don't believe in God, but you believe in Santa?''

Sherlock giggled and rolled his eyes. ''I believe in neither, but my Mum still acts like he comes every year.''

''Did you believe in him as a child?'' John asked, running his fingers over Sherlock's belly.

''I did until I was about seven, cause then I really questioned things and I realised all of what people said he did was impossible.'' 

John chuckled, pressing a kiss into Sherlock's shoulder. ''Were you disappointed when you figured it out?''

''No!'' Sherlock laughed. ''I knew what no one else my age knew.''

John laughed again, and then Sherlock's bedroom door swung open and in walked his brother. Sherlock yanked the covers up over the. ''Mycroft! Knocking! Ever heard of it?!''

''There's a man in your bed, Sherlock.'' Mycroft stated dumbly.

In response, Sherlock widened his eyes and looked at John. ''How did you get there?!'' he exclaimed, making John laugh and earning an eye-roll from Mycroft.

''You must be John?''

''I am.'' John nodded, pulling the covers up a bit more, a light tinge of pink in his cheeks. ''Hello.''

''Hello.'' Mycroft replied shortly, then he turned his gaze back to his brother. ''I didn't think you were coming home 'til New Years' Eve?''

''Change of plan.'' Sherlock said simply, giving a bit of a strained smile.

Mycroft nodded. ''Mother and Father want us downstairs.'' he said, then left the room.

Sherlock turned to John and smiled. ''Presents will be present.''

John smiled and started kissing down Sherlock's chest. ''Can I give you a present first?'' He kept kissing down past his abdomen.

Sherlock raised an eyebrow, head pressed into his pillows. ''What do you mea-'' Sherlock's eyes widened and his cheeks flushed. ''Oh.''


	12. Chapter Twelve

John wished his own parents had been so accepting. He wished he had stayed long enough to see his sister. Yet, if that fight with his parents had never happened, John would never have had the opportunity to spend this Christmas with Sherlock's lovely family. Sherlock was right, they were weird, but John loved them. Sherlock's Dad loved to talk, and embarrass Sherlock too. His Mother was different, she was just outstanding. Clever. And, always happy to see her children smile. It was odd, Sherlock hated tidying up their dorm back at college, but if his mother asked him to lift a finger, he'd do it in the blink of an eye. She also could never decide on what to call Sherlock. He was mostly 'Sherlock', but when she scalded him, it was 'William', and when she was chatting, sometimes a 'Will' slipped out. Then, there was Mycroft. Mycroft was odd. He was the same age as John and anytime they tried to have civil conversation, John felt like a child. Mycroft acted older, and he already had some important job, apparently. John tried to remind him, when the older Holmes boy started to boast, that he'd been in the army.

Sherlock and John proceeded to get dressed once his Mum started shouting up the stairs to hurry up. John grinned across at Sherlock, pulling on a jumper he'd saved up for Christmas. ''Are you alright with what we just did in your childhood bedroom?''

Sherlock laughed shortly, buttoning up his shirt. ''Just another memory now.'' he said, looking at himself in the mirror. ''I don't mind at all.''

John chuckled and slipped his arms around Sherlock's waist, looking at them both in the mirror as Sherlock finished up with his clothes. ''I love you, you know.''

Sherlock sighed, cheeks flushing a soft pink. ''I'm rather fond of you too.'' he said, turning his head to kiss the side of John's. ''But, my Mother wont be if we don't hurry up, so let's go.'' he playfully patted John's bum as he pulled away and walked towards the door.

The morning was filled with present exchanging, stories about past Christmases, and Sherlock's mum had even gone through the trouble to make sure John had a little present. They ate chocolate for breakfast, and more goodies for lunch until they were dreading eating a roast for dinner. 

''John, I'm fat.'' Sherlock groaned, curled up on one of the gorgeous, maroon couches by the fire.

John snorted, looked at him from an armchair. ''Sherlock, you're really not.''

''I haven't eaten this much since I was a child.'' he continued to mope. 

''You  _are_  a child, Sherlock.'' John continued to smile, a small glass of mulled wine in his hand. 

''How are you drinking that?'' he stared at his boyfriend. ''How are you not exploding with  _food_?''

''All right, that's it.'' John grinned, placing his glass down and walked over to Sherlock. ''Are you fat?'' he asked.

Sherlock looked up at him and nodded. ''I feel fat.'' 

''We'll see about that!'' John said, playfully peeping up under Sherlock's shirt. ''Nope! You're still completely flat.''

Sherlock laughed at John, taking a deep breath in and making his tummy rise, his cheeks puffed out. ''Am I attractive?''

John laughed and kept his hand up under Sherlock's shirt, starting to slowly tickle him. Sherlock groaned, his cheeks heating up and a smile spreading across his face. ''Not now, I'm bloated.''

''Thought you were fat?'' John retaliated, still tickling him. Sherlock squirmed, giggling softly.

''Get off!'' Sherlock laughed loudly, breaths shortened as John tickled him. ''John!'' he cackled in laughter.

John laughed at the sight of him and kept it going, until the sitting room door swung open, revealing a confused looking Mycroft. ''...Dinner is ready.''

Sherlock blushed a deeper colour and slid up on the seat so he was sitting, rather than lying. ''Be in, in a minute.'' 

He raised an eyebrow at his brother, rolled his eyes, then walked out. Sherlock softly shoved John. ''He did  _not_  think you were tickling me.''

John too blushed and he stood, holding a hand out for Sherlock. ''Well, we can't help that. Now, let's go get you fat.''

Sherlock groaned.

 

Their days continued just as happily, and with just as much food (and complaining from Sherlock). New Year's was wonderful. They all huddled out the back against the rain as Sherlock's dad tried to figure out how to set off the fireworks. After ten minutes, and after everyone was soaked to the skin, the air and sky was filled with purple and blue lights. 

John kissed Sherlock at the countdown, standing a little away from Sherlock's family. He grinned as their lips slid together,and as Sherlock pulled him closer.

''You know what, William?''

Sherlock laughed, rolling his eyes. ''What?''

''I'm gonna be with your forever.''  he said, giving him a soppy grin. 

Sherlock snorted in response. ''Have you been drinking?''

''Maybe?!'' John said, throwing his arms up for a second, before they wrapped back around Sherlock's waist. ''But, I do mean it. You're the one for me''

Sherlock couldn't get the smile off his face and he shut his eyes, giving John a small kiss. ''Happy New Year, John.''

''Happy New Year, Sherlock.'' John whispered, bringing him back into a deeper kiss as another batch of fireworks zoomed into the air, crashing above them in light. 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

It was a wonderful holiday. They stayed a few days after New Year's, then went back to College to finish their first year. They were both so happy with each other. They had been dating for a while now, and it almost felt as it nothing could ever stop them. Their love for each other was so concentrated. Their love was so gloriously heavy on their hearts. They were mad about each other, even after many months passed. Their school work was good, due to their positive attitudes. Sherlock was close to graduating and so was John. They were thrilled. And so they remained...Until the last month of College. 

Reality hit them. They both wanted very different things. They had polar opposite opinions and aspirations. Sherlock wanted to take a year out of college and do work experience in London with Scotland Yard. He'd already gotten the say-so. John, on the other hand, wanted to take a year out of college so he could go back to the army. He and Sherlock both knew that his service time would probably stretch farther than a year. He also definitely had a place. Their separation was inevitable.

They didn't know what to do. Sherlock suggested a long-distance relationship, but neither of them really wanted that. They thought about meeting up just whenever they could, but that would satisfy neither of them....So, it was over. It was over, even though neither of them wanted it to be. They were both young, and they wanted to get their careers in order. They knew that love shouldn't stop you from reaching your occupational dream...But it was so tempting. 

For Sherlock, he knew what this meant. He wouldn't tell John. No, if he told John, his boyfriend would force himself to stay with Sherlock even if he actually wanted to go to the army. Sherlock would never find another. He knew it, he accepted it. John was the love of his life, and he had to leave him. John was the one true person who treated him right. The one person (apart from his family) who loved him. It was different with family. They had to love you. The love was forced upon them from the moment Sherlock was born. But, not with John. John chose to love Sherlock. John actually felt that way, and Sherlock knew he was never going to find another person who felt like that. It was heartbreaking, really, but Sherlock wouldn't stop John from going to the army. He could be selfish, but he couldn't when it came to John Watson.

John, on the other hand, didn't worry about finding a future partner. He'd been with girls and boys before and the idea of dating didn't frighten him. He just knew he'd miss Sherlock. And, he would worry about him. He'd worry about people bullying him, and he'd worry that Sherlock would believe what they said. He was brilliant, Sherlock. He was clever and arrogant and beautiful...And incredibly insecure in the face of friendship. John was afraid to leave him on his own. Yet, Sherlock kept insisting that he was okay. That, yes, this separation was bound to hurt, but he would be okay in the long run.

So, it was a bittersweet departure. The two recognized that this was probably the best relationship they would ever have. And instead of pining over it, they just wanted to appreciate the wonderful time they had spent together. They felt excited about their future, and also guilty for feeling happy about it. But, they understood. Sherlock knew John would miss him, yet also enjoy the army. John knew Sherlock would miss him, but also enjoy working for Scotland Yard. Life would be rough for a while, but that was okay. Because for a little while...They had perfection.

 

''Sherlock,'' John nudged him with his foot. It was the morning both their trains would take them away from each other. ''Sherlock, wake up.'' he said, sitting up and turning off the alarm. 

Sherlock stirred a bit and eventually opened his eyes. He yawned softly and sat up, rubbing at his eyes. He looked at John, and gave him a soft smile. ''Goodmorning.''

''Morning, Sherlock.'' he said, biting his lips. Wow, this really wasn't going to be easy. They looked at each other for a small while. They both understood and let the other gaze. John would miss Sherlock's bedhead, the way his curls would go crazy. Sherlock would miss the way John's eyes were all puffy in the morning, and not fully open. Sherlock eventually ended it by kissing John on the cheek and clambering out of bed.

''Come on,'' he said, forcing enthusiasm into his voice. ''We have to be leaving in an hour.'' he started pulling on his clothes.

John stared at him from their bed for a moment, then nodded and stood, feeling a horrible heaviness on his chest.

They packed in silence, and they ate their dry bread without speaking. Too soon, it was time for them to go to the train station. Sherlock's train left only half an hour after John's, so they decided to go together. Sherlock was just pulling on his coat when John's phone 'pinged'. 

''Shit,'' he muttered, looking at his phone.

''What's wrong?'' Sherlock asked, placing his hand on the door knob. 

''My train's been delayed by a bloody hour.'' John sighed, sitting back down on the bare bed.

''Ah,'' Sherlock removed his hand. ''So, I suppose...There's no point in you coming with me now, is there? You'll only be waiting around for ages.''

John looked up at him and nodded. ''Suppose'' his voice was thick.

Sherlock looked down to the floor, and he found himself doing something he really,  _really_  rarely did. He started crying.

John stood up and instantly walked to him, cupping his face in his hands. ''Don't you start, you'll only make me cry too.'' he said, eyes already glossing over.

Sherlock looked at John and brought him into a hug, tears silently falling from his eyes. He wanted to sob loudly and to stamp his feet in anger, but he held it back, the lump in his throat; painful. John gripped onto the back of Sherlock's coat, tears dripping down and tickling his nose. ''I love you.''

Sherlock let out a small noise of pain and nodded. ''I love you too. John,'' he sniffed in and pulled back. ''Don't get hurt in the army, okay? You take care of yourself.'' his lip quivered.

John nodded, staring up at him. ''You too. You stay safe. And stay happy.'' 

Sherlock let out a louder sob and nodded. He tried to smile as he forced himself to step away from John. ''Thank you so much for everything, I've had an amazing time.''

John nodded, wiping furiously at his cheeks. ''Thank  _you_ '' he said.

Sherlock opened the door and took up his two bags. ''...I wish you the best of luck.'' he said in a quiet voice, slowly retreating from the room. He had tears flying down his cheeks, but he smiled. That's what Sherlock always wanted. To make John smile.

And, he did. He smiled back through his own tears. ''You too, Sherlock. I love you.''

''I love you too.'' he got out, before making himself turn his back and walk away. He held his head up high, even though tears fell quickly and his shoulders shook. He just kept walking. Away. Away from John.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Years went by between the two, without a word to or from each other. It was difficult at first. It was more than difficult. It was painful and it was hard to resist picking up the phone to try and search for where the other was. But, as most humans must do, they adapted. They moved on, but that didn't mean they forgot. They accepted it, and that was the best they could do.

Sherlock was actually quite successful in his what seemed to be ''mad notions''. He worked for Scotland Yard for a year and a half, then decided to go back to college and complete his studies. And, finally, he was able to do his dream job. Consulting detective, that's what he was. It suited him very well. Work life was good.

Not his social life, though. It was...A little embarrassing, he supposed, but he hadn't properly been with anyone since John and it was over ten years since. But, even if it was embarrassing, he didn't mind. He just didn't do that sort of thing anymore. John was  _the_  one and maybe he shouldn't have let him go, but he did. He had to accept that. He was perfectly happy living the way he was.

John Watson went back to the army...And, he stayed. It was his job, basically. He was a soldier, then doctor, then a captain, still doctor. Yet, he was injured again, more seriously this time. Gun wound to his shoulder, so he decided to take his pension and leave the army. Now, he was stuck with nowhere to live.

Maybe God loved them. Maybe it was faith. Maybe it was coincidence, but you already know what happened next.

Sherlock Holmes was perched on his stool in the usual laboratory he liked to take use of in St. Bartholomew's Hospital. He was bored, purely performing experiments, none of this was for his work, and the door opened.

''Well, bit different from my day.'' Came a familiar voice, and he glanced up, then down just as quickly, disinterested in whoever Mike had brought into the room.

''Mike, can I borrow your phone? There's no signal on-'' His head snapped up again. ''Oh my God.''

''Oh my God...?'' Mike questioned, then looked to John to see if he also found this fellow's behaviour odd, but John was wearing the same expression as Sherlock.

''Have I missed something?'' Mike stared between them as they just  _looked_  at each other.

Sherlock was the first to break the silence. He hopped off his stool and walked over to John, with the biggest smile Mike had ever seen on him. ''John!''

John laughed in disbelief and shook his head a bit. ''Christ, Sherlock.'' he brought him into a quick hug and Sherlock took a moment to hug back, before pulling away again.

''How have you been?'' Sherlock continued to beam.

''I got-''

''Shot, oh dear. And, you're looking for a place to stay?''

John stared at him a moment, before another grin cracked onto his features. ''I forgot you did that.'' he said breathlessly. Then, he pulled himself together. ''And, yes, got shot. Looking for accommodation in London. Cheap, preferably.''

''So am I.'' Sherlock said in a smooth voice, walking back over to his work space and cleaning it up a bit. ''Coincidences, never cease to amaze me.''

Mike was still staring at them. ''Yous...Know each other?''

''Stunning deduction.'' Sherlock said sarcastically, walking back to John. ''We used to date.'' he spoke to Mike, then looked back at John. ''Dinner?''

''Starving.''

 

**The End**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the official ending for Dorm 221B, but I was commissioned to write a small Special of this story. It isn't a necessary read, but it may be a nice one for you. So, if you wish to read it, click on next chapter.


	15. Special

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is just a follow on from the last chapter. It explains what happens after the old friends meet up and start a different type of life with each other.

It was easy. Getting a cab was easy. Deciding which restaurant they wanted to go to was easy. The small talk in the cab as they neared Angelo's was easy.  _How are you? How's life? Oh, Consulting Detective? Congratulations! Oh, army pension. That's rough._ Waiting to be seated was easy, a small introduction from Angelo was easy and almost amusing...The small candle on the table was awkward, and Angelo assuming John was Sherlock's date was tense. Then came the talking.

John was a little alarmed. Sherlock simultaneously was completely different and also the exact same. When John had known Sherlock, his boyfriend had been private, reclusive, hard and cold towards others, but never did he lie to John about how he felt. Once they were close, obviously later in the day, he would have always confided in John whether or nor a certain person's comment had upset him or not. Yet, John had a feeling that Sherlock had managed to close himself off even more than he used to. That's how he was different. Sherlock was cold. Smart. And obviously very wary. He had given John a huge grin back at St, Bart's, but Sherlock had quickly collected himself. Now, it was all polite smiles and a fake-breezy attitude. John knew different. He knew how Sherlock worked. Sherlock had emotions, and it upset John to see how Sherlock was still insecure about them.

''So.'' John said, forcing a smile on his face.

Sherlock gave a strained smile back and nodded. ''So.'' he laughed a bit, simply filling the silence.

John tapped his hands on the table top. ''So, you got that job you wanted.''

''Yes.'' Sherlock said quickly, eager to get a fluid conversation going. ''Yes, I'm a consulting detective. I have a website, but I mainly get my cases from Scotland Yard. God, they'd be lost without me.''

John laughed nervously, nodding with a smile. ''Is it dangerous?'' he asked. 

Sherlock tilted his head from side to side, thinking through his answer. ''Yes,'' he eventually said. ''Yes, it can be, certainly, at times, but...'' he smiled to himself. ''It's not all chasing after criminals. Sometimes it can just be me thinking through the evidence given and figuring it all out.''

John nodded. ''Good. That sounds very...exciting.'' he decided was the right word. ''Very exciting.''

''It is.'' Sherlock said, and John found the smile that appeared on his face adorable. ''It occupies my mind.'' he added, trying to bring back his stoicism.

There was a small, tense pause, the only sound was of Sherlock's fingers drumming on the table-top. Then, Sherlock was the one to ask the first daring question.

''So, are you seeing anyone?''

At that, John laughed. ''Ah...no.'' he smiled a bit. ''No, and the one upside to being dumped by a throng of different people means I have plenty of funny stories to tell.''

Sherlock snorted and nodded his head, an amused smile on his face. ''Quite an optimistic way of seeing it.''

John nodded and chuckled. ''It is, I suppose. But, if you don't laugh, you're going to end up all sad.''

Sherlock's expression faltered. It was only for a split second, but it showed on his face. John saw it too.

''Suppose so, yes.'' Sherlock said, having brought himself back to his usual self. But, John could see the cogs working behind his eyes. 

''What about you?'' John asked, taking a sip of his water. ''Anyone take your fancy?''

Sherlock looked down at the table, giving an air of nonchalance. ''No.'' he said shortly, simply.

John raised a brow. ''Not even funny stories?''

 _I can't give you funny stories,_ Sherlock thought.  _But I can tell you about the plenty of sad one-night-stands I've had. You'd like that, right?_

Sherlock gave a laugh. Almost a nervous laugh and he shook his head. ''No, I don't really...do that anymore.''

''What, dating?'' John asked.

''Yeah.'' Sherlock shrugged. ''I mean, just...nothing serious. Nothing...''  _At all._

John frowned and just looked at Sherlock. ''Are you okay?''

 _I thought I was, then you showed up again._ It was starting to get uncomfortably hot underneath Sherlock's suit and he was confused. Why was his brain going so slow? Why should John, a very  _old_  friend, have such a huge impact on him? Why did he suddenly care about and realise how pathetic his life was now?

''Sherlock?'' he pressed, alarmed at his change in attitude. ''Forget it.'' he suddenly blurted out. ''Forget my question.'' he gushed, embarrassed and confused.

Sherlock's face was red. He couldn't believe himself. Why was he so affected? Well, he knew  _why,_ but he was usually a lot better at hiding if he was feeling negatively.

He had moved on. He had accepted what had happened. John was his boyfriend. He had loved him deeply. Then, they broke up. And, that was  _fine_. He was perfectly content in his life. The occasional one-night-stand sufficed. But...seeing John again had not been part of the plan. _  
_

Suddenly, Sherlock stood up from the table. The speed at which he shot up shook the cutlery and danced the light of the fire across John's alarmed face.

''Sherlock, I didn't mean to-''

''No, I should go.'' he said quietly. ''I'm acting stra-''

''Normal, Sherlock.'' It was easy to slip into his old scolding, yet caring way. ''You're acting normal for what's going on right now and I would appreciate it if you sat back down.''

Sherlock just kept staring at him for a moment more, before he slowly sat back down. He felt queasy. 

''Thank you.'' John said, with a huff of breath. The wariness was completely visible now on Sherlock's face. He was caught off guard.

''Now,'' John said. ''Why don't you tell me about it?''

''About 'it'?'' he blinked at John. ''About what? There's nothing to say. Nothing at all.''

''How long has it been, Sherlock?'' John murmured. 

Sherlock raised a brow. ''Since...?'' He wasn't asking about  _sex_ , was he?

''Since...Since something like what we had?'' he held eye-contact, licking his lips once.

''Why do you get to ask me that?'' Sherlock snapped, suddenly defensive. ''I knew you twenty years ago, give or take. Neither of us are the same.''

''Aren't we?'' John murmured, jaw set. He wouldn't budge.

Sherlock didn't answer John. He kept staring. 

''No, I think we're quite like how we used to be.'' John said. ''Yes, maybe we've been hardened by war or...whatever it is that has happened to you.''

''Nothing's happened to me.'' Sherlock insisted. 

John didn't respond for a moment. ''Okay, well then maybe it's the nothing that's the problem.'' he suggested. ''Maybe you're lacking-''

''You have no right!'' Sherlock interrupted, laughing almost manically. ''Nice talking!'' he stood again to leave.

''How long has it been, Sherlock?'' he asked, calm. His hand moved out across to Sherlock, but he didn't touch him. 

''Twenty years, is that a problem?!'' Sherlock answered, voice raised. Heads turned in their direction. 

John stared up at him. ''No.'' he gave a small, sad laugh. ''That's not a problem.''

Sherlock stood up straighter, and moved his gaze about in front of him. He was thinking.

Sherlock had spent so long building up his defenses. He was cold and hard and perfectly capable of being alone. If he walked out right now, he would continue living with this safety net over him. He would forever be alone, but safe. If he chose to sit back down, his safety was gone. He would be vulnerable. Vulnerable to love, to caring, sex, emotions...If he sat down, he would be opening himself back up to a life he had left long ago. Was it worth it? Was it? Sit down or walk out?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sherlock sat back down.

John smiled. 

Sherlock gave a nervous smile back. ''Sorry about that.''

''Don't be.'' he shook his head. ''I think I have a better understanding of what's been going on now.''

Sherlock sighed and nodded, looking down at the table. ''I...I stayed with Scotland Yard for a year and a half, then I finished my course in college. Became freelance after that. Consulting detective, as I said. And that's what I've been doing since.''

John cocked his head. ''What are you leaving out?''

Despite his question, Sherlock smiled for a small second, then nodded. ''I got a little caught up in...drugs for a while-'' he heard John's breath hitch, but he continued anyway. ''But, that was then. I am definitely clean, apart from a smoking habit.''

John licked his lips and nodded. It hurt knowing what had happened after their separation, but he wanted to know. ''Yes, and?''

Sherlock sighed, holding himself up a little higher in his seat. He looked out the window. ''I gave up on the idea of romance.'' he shrugged. ''No one interested me.'' he glanced at John, then away again. ''Well, no one  _else_.'' he murmured.

John looked at him. ''I don't know what to say. Should I say sorry...?''

''No.'' he shook his head. ''No, our break up was mutual. You know that. Anything that happened after was my own doing.''

John nodded. ''So, what now?''

Sherlock shrugged. ''How would I know?''

John, taking a leap of faith, took Sherlock's hand.

Sherlock looked down at their joined hands, a curious expression on his face that made John smile.

''Is this okay?'' he asked the detective. 

''Yeah.'' his voice had dropped slightly in pitch. ''Yeah, I...Okay.''

John chuckled and Sherlock blushed with a laugh. ''Sorry, that wasn't very smooth.''

John smiled and shrugged. ''I don't care.'' he looked at him. ''You know, you really haven't changed.''

Sherlock raised a brow. ''I beg to differ.'' he laughed.

John kissed his cheek, resulting in a blush appearing on the same place John's lips had just touched. John laughed. ''See? You're the same.''

Sherlock found himself trying to smother a bigger smile as he looked down. ''You...You realise this will take time, John. Don't you?'' he looked back at him. 

John nodded, allowing some space to get between them. He kept their hands joined, though. ''Of course. I''l wait. I can wait.''

Sherlock smiled and very gently pulled his hand back. ''Thank you.'' he kissed his cheek, then sat back in the chair.

''So,'' he smiled. ''Tell me about this terrible apartment you're currently calling your home.''

 

 After that, the conversation that evening was a lot more freer. John talked of the harshness of war, and he also had the odd funny story to tell. Sherlock told John about the many fruitful cases he had been on. It was...easy.

After a short discussion, Sherlock decided that he really did want John back in his life the way he had been before. Yet, he also realised that he was definitely not ready for it. So, John promised he would wait. 

The day after, John started to move his boxes into 221B Baker Street. He liked it a lot. And, he found it funny, and almost suspicious, that the house number was the same as their old dorm room number. John thought the flat was rather quaint (and, maybe in need of a little clean-up, which he doubted he would ever get). He told Mrs. Hudson that he would need the other bedroom upstairs while Sherlock looked away, embarrassed. 

John was curious as to how his life would change now that he was living with the world's only consulting detective, and it transpired that he wouldn't have to wait very long for that answer. The very same day a case was sprung upon Sherlock which most definitely helped Sherlock to see that he could still trust his old friend.

John waited. And waited...And waited some more. Actually, he got a little impatient, but he didn't say anything. He had promised he would wait, and he didn't want to break that promise. So, he waited, waited, waited...

 

John was sitting on the sofa in their apartment, chatting to Lestrade, who sat on a stool. Sherlock was beside John, though not joining in on their conversation. He scrolled through his phone, his expression was soft, thoughtful. John and Greg knew better than to try and get him interested in what they were talking about. They knew he probably didn't care in the slightest. Actually, there was even the possibility that Sherlock wasn't even  _aware_  that his flatmate and friend were sitting beside him.

Then his head moved up and he slowly lowered his phone to rest on his right knee, which rested over his left. He looked at John. He saw the way his mouth moved in speech, and he saw how the corners of his lips curled in amusement at whatever Lestrade was saying. His eyes crinkled too. When he laughed. Sherlock liked that. 

And then his lips were on John's. He had cut straight through their conversation, leaned over, and kissed his best friend. 

John's reaction went in three steps. Step one, shock. He just sort of sat there for a few seconds, trying to figure out  _what_  Sherlock was doing. Step two, response. He found himself kissing back. He moved his lips against Sherlock's for only something like three seconds (Four seconds, thirty milliseconds. Sherlock counted). Step three, embarrassment. His brain kicked in and he remembered Lestrade. Greg Lestrade, who was just sitting there, staring because he hadn't realised he should look away yet. He didn't even have time to look away, though.

As soon as it had started, it was over. Sherlock pulled back and kept his face close to John's, a curious expression in his eyes. He closed his mouth and pressed his own lips together. ''Hmm.'' he stared at John, then nodded. ''Yes.'' he decided, then stood up and walked into the kitchen to make some tea.

John sat there, blinking. His cheeks quickly went red and he glanced at Lestrade, then away again. At first, Greg shared in his look of befuddlement, then he started to grin.  _Finally_. Sure, the detective inspector didn't know of Sherlock and John's past, but he had seen those two dancing around each other for months. It was about time for something to happen. John blushed harder when he saw Greg smile, and he raised a hand. 

''Uh...Excuse me a moment.'' he muttered, then pushed himself up from the sinking cushion on the sofa. 

John walked into Sherlock, who was resting his hip against the counter as he stirred a teabag around in hot water, making the liquid go a dark brown. He had his back to John. He looked rather relaxed. 

''Sherlock!'' he hissed. 

The detective didn't respond for a moment, then cocked his head and turned around to him. ''Yes?''

John's eyes widened at his casual attitude. ''You just kissed me in front of Lestrade!'' he whispered.

Sherlock didn't know why they were whispering, but he decided to play along and answered in a whisper himself. ''Well...You told me to tell you when the time felt right, and the time felt right.'' he stated simply, not seeing a problem with it at all.

John stared at him for a moment longer and tried not to smile. ''So, you...'' he shuffled on his feet a bit, looked down, drew in a deep breath, then looked back up at him. ''So, you've decided that you want to be with me?''

''Yes.'' Sherlock said slowly, as if John might not hear him if he spoke at his usual speed.

John licked his lips and stayed still for a moment, then nodded. A part of him wanted to tell Sherlock that he probably should have kissed him at a different time, but he knew that was useless. John started to smile and Sherlock smiled too, amused at how much John tried to hide how pleased he was. 

''Greg is waiting for you.'' Sherlock whispered. 

John nodded again and met Sherlock's eyes. He looked smitten. Nothing could wipe that smile off his face. ''He is.''

Sherlock nodded, waiting for John to go, but he didn't. He cocked his head at him, then made a surprised noise when John walked forward and smashed their lips together. 

Ignoring the snort of laughter heard from the sitting room, John pressed harder into the kiss, and Sherlock found himself melting against John. He hadn't realised that he had missed this part of their relationship so much. 

When John pulled back, Sherlock was uncharacteristically speechless. 

''Good to have you back.'' John whispered to him, and Sherlock just smirked in return. 

''Good to be back.''


End file.
